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MARIAN KING 































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STORY BY MARIAN KING 


W 


PICTURES BY NELL STOLP SMOCK 


JUNIOR PRESS BOOKS 

alberjSwhitman 

co - 

CHICAGO 

1939 





fin 

.K5X(o 



COPYRIGHT 1939 BY 
ALBERT WHITMAN AND CO. 
CHICAGO 


LITHOGRAPHED IN THE U.S.A. 


©ci A 


129655 


MAV 29 1939 


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Then Micco, his young master, 
climbed into the front seat. Flow¬ 
ering heads of purple cauliflower 
were piled high behind him. “Fa, 
Piccolino! Fa ora!” he called. This 
meant, “Go, Piccolino! Go now!” 


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But 

key did not move a step. He turned 
his shaggy head and wiggled his 
ears at his master. Micco knew 
what this meant, so he sang a gay 
little song. Then Piccolino lifted his 
small hoofs and started down 
path that led to the long, 
road. Micco was singing all the 
time. 

Each time Micco sang this lively 
little tune he made up different 
words for it. 


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they reached the plaza in 
: village where all the other don- 
jkeys were gathered. Piccolino paid 
[no attention to them. He was not 
I interested in their friendly whines. 
|But when he heard one of the men 
sing or blow on a lacquer whistle, 
jthen he pricked up his ears and 
“turned his head. 


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When Micco had sold all the 
cauliflower in his cart, Piccolino 
started home without any coaxing. 
He picked his way slowly over the 
long, winding road. 

When he came to the little white, 
villa on the hillside he pulled the' 
empty cart into the yard. His har¬ 
ness was taken off and a long rope 
was tied around his neck and fas¬ 
tened to the trunk of an almond 
tree. 



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watched Micco put the 
cart into the shed. Then he bent 
"his knees under him and rolled in 
the soft earth. It felt very good. 
ijjVarm sunshine beat down on him 
nd made his eyes blink. 


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Picco 

proud of him because he was the 
most handsome donkey on the 
island. But she knew that he was 
lazy and stubborn. “You should be 
very proud,” she said to him, “b 
you are lazy. This cart is the m 

Krt/infiful Atia in oil ” 


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Piccolino’s mother looked down 
road where big and little don- 
pulled heavy carts or carried 
bundles on their backs. “If 
you had to work all day as hard 
as other donkeys do, I don’t know 
' how you would get along.” 


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*'*1 _ 

Piccolino just wiggled his ears 
and looked at his mother in his 
sleepy way. 

Far in the distance he could 
the fishermen and hear their sing 
ing as they rowed their striped 
ored boats to the shore. . 


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A young donkey named Nina 
e to live on the hillside. Picco- 
and Nina became very good 
ids. He showed her where the 
grass grew and how to 
oid the prickly cactus. 

He told her which goats butted 
which ones were friendly. He 
her that the olives on the trees 
very bitter. And he led her to 
e edge of the hill to listen to the 
of the fishermen. 


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One day there was great 
ment in Micco’s house. Picco 
mother heard strange voices. Sh 
began to worry. 

“They’re coming this way!” she 
whispered to Piccolino, as three 
strange men walked towards them 
Then she heard Micco’s father 
“He’s the finest donkey in Sicily.’ 


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“Magnificio— fine!” One of the 
men was delighted with Piccolino. 
“But can he pull the cart?” 


“Pull the cart!” Micco smiled.“I’ll 
show you!” He harnessed Picco¬ 
lino to the beautiful hand-painted 
cart. “Watch him!” Micco shouted 
proudly. “Fa, Piccolino! Fa ora!** 
-he called. 


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Piccolino would not budge. 

“Lazy, fat, and stubborn, just as 
I thought,” one of the 
said. 

Micco’s face was very red. H 
started to sing the lively little tune 
that Piccolino liked so well. At once 
Piccolino began to move. 

“Bravo! Bravo!** the stran 
cried. “He can pull the cart!” 


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But as sooricis ivl icco stopped]; 
singing, Piccolino stopped moving.A 

“He’ll do! He’s different! We’ll| 
take him and the boy also!” 


The strangers walked towards^ 
the cart to look at the beautiful^ 
pictures that covered it. 

Piccolino did not know that hel 
and Micco and the hand-painted- 
cart were going to join a circus. He 
did not know that he would have/ 
to leave his mother and Nina. Asl 
long as Micco sang to him, every-^ 
thing seemed all right. 


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lcco 

joined the circus in southern Italy. 
Micco was excited, but Piccolino 
was homesick. He did not like all 
these strangers. 


He missed the warm sunshine 
and the soft earth that felt good 
his back when he rolled in it. 
_Mo st of all he missed his mother 
“and Nina and the songs of the 
fishermen. 


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On his first'day in the circus Pi'c- 
colino pulled the hand-painted cart. 
It was filled with smiling, black-eyed 
boys. Each boy carried a lacquer 
whistle. 

Behind Piccolino there were or¬ 
gan-grinders with their monkeys 
and bareback riders with their 
horses. j j 

In front of Piccolino there were 
clowns and dancing girls and acro¬ 
bats and two bands. When Piccolino 
heard the gay tunes, he picked up 
his tiny feet and walked happily 
along. 







in 

icco’s cart blew on their whistles, 
made Piccolino think of Sicily. 
Slowly he turned his shaggy head. 

e saw two big tears roll down 
Micco’s face. Piccolino grew sad 
would not move. 


=-Quickly Micco waved to the boys 
to stop their playing. Then he 
jumped to the ground and ran to 
Piccolino. He began to sing Picco- 
lino’s favorite song. Slowly Picco¬ 
lino moved on for his master. 


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would not move at all. Micco sang 
and sang until he could not sing 
another note. Every man in the two 
bands played and played until he 
could not play another note, 
of the men played trumpets, 
blew until they were red in 


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move. 


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"If 

home,” Micco said to Piccolino, "we 
will never leave it again for all th 
circuses in the world!” 


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“Come, Piccolino! Come now! We 
are going home. To Sicily!” Piccolino 
moved quickly now. Soon he would 
see his mother and Nina. Soon he; 
would hear the songs of the fishery 
men. 













across the 
* of Messina to the beautiful 
of Sicily, Micco put his arms 
i Piccolino’s neck and said, “I 
was homesick too, but now I am 
happy again.” And he began to sing. 


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looked at the beautiful hand-painted 
cart. He seemed to say, “Master^ 
just sing that song for me when¬ 
ever you want me to pull the cart.” 


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